


The Meaning of Us

by Scritto



Series: The Next Generation [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Characters from Show me how you do that trick, F/M, One-Shot, Side Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scritto/pseuds/Scritto
Summary: So, how did James and Poppy actually get together? How exactly did the jokester and prankster extraordinaire fall for the Slytherin princess who happened to be his best friend's little sister? Let's find out.A side-story one-shot to accompany the fic, Show me how you do that trick.
Relationships: James Sirius Potter/Original Female Character(s), James Sirius Potter/Poppy Longbottom
Series: The Next Generation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979533
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Meaning of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here is my promised Poppy/James one-shot. To anyone reading this, thank you for indulging me in this ship. I loved writing them in the background of Lily and Stella's story, so I just had to give them their place in the sun. Enjoy!

Poppy Longbottom was going to ruin James’s life. Not only was she shaping up to be the best Slytherin captain that James had seen since he started at Hogwarts, she was also fucking beautiful. Like when had that happened?

He could have sworn that when they had gone home for the summer holidays, she had still been Harry Longbottom’s bratty little sister, with front teeth that were far too big for her mouth. Then, one afternoon in October she showed up at the Quidditch pitch, yelling at him about how Gryffindor was not abiding by the schedule and it was Slytherin’s turn to practice. Even though James knew he should have been listening to what she was saying, he kept being distracted by the way in which her long wavy hair was blowing in the wind and how, now that her front teeth weren’t jutting out anymore, her full, sultry lips were on full display. Had she always looked like that?

“Potter, were you hit by a bludger or something? Are you listening to me?” Poppy was snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted. Umm, yes, we’ll be more careful next time. I’m sorry, I must have gotten my days mixed up.”

Poppy studied him with raised eyebrows. “Alright, see that it doesn’t happen again. My predecessor may have taken it easy on you, but I won’t be making that mistake.”

And then she breezed past him, leaving a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume in her wake. Who wore perfume to Quidditch practice?

After that it only became worse. She was suddenly everywhere he went. In Hogsmeade, she would pop up out of nowhere and sit down at their table at the Three Broomsticks, monologuing at her brother about how she couldn’t believe their parents were going on safari in South Africa without her, her sweet-smelling hair inches away from James’ face in the most frustratingly delicious way. On Prefect rounds, she always seemed to be loitering in the hallways after curfew with her best friend, Stella Malfoy. When James reprimanded them, Stella would smile beatifically and apologise, while Poppy would just look down her nose at him and strut away. How she actually managed to _look down_ at him, was beyond him, considering he was almost a head taller than her.

Nothing was worse than Quidditch, though. It was just his luck that the Slytherin team’s practices seemed to be scheduled either before or after Gryffindor’s, meaning that every other day, James was forced to see either a perfectly coiffed Poppy in her Quidditch robes or a Poppy whose cheeks glowed brightly from the exercise, her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead after drilling her teammates as though they were in the military. He wasn’t sure which one was more attractive. 

Beyond her near constant presence, James couldn’t avoid her even when he was alone, as he thought about her incessantly. He would sit for hours in the Gryffindor common room, trying to focus on his homework, but instead he would puzzle over how Pansy had seemingly overnight gone from being his best friend’s irritating, stuck-up little sister to the girl whose hazel eyes he thought of when he lay in bed at night. It was seriously becoming a problem.

***

“I really hope that by the time the first match rolls around, your team’s in better shape than what I just saw out there,” a voice said from behind James as he was packing away the equipment after practice.

He sighed. That voice had become a feature of many of his dreams as of late- or were they nightmares?

James turned around to see Poppy leaning against door of the shed. She was dressed in her Quidditch robes, a smirk on her lips and a mischievous glint in her eyes. James felt his breathing increase.

“Shouldn’t you be terrorising your teammates by now?” he answered, trying to sound disinterested.

“They’re doing warm-ups.”

James slammed the doors of the cupboard where they kept the quaffles shut. “Why aren’t you with them?”

Poppy shrugged, walking languidly into the shed. She picked at a broom that was propped against the wall. “I felt like coming over here to encourage my opposing captain to get his shit together. I don’t want to beat you when you’re not playing at your best. There’s no fun in that.”

James scowled. Even though he found Poppy attractive, he sometimes actually couldn’t stand her.

“Don’t worry, Longbottom, when we meet each other on the pitch, we’ll be more than a good challenge for you.”

Poppy took a step towards him. She was so close, James could see the flecks of brown in her light eyes. She was scrutinising him again, a habit that he had recently noticed she had. James had seen many a student wither under her intimidating gaze since he had started following her with his eyes around school. Slowly, the corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “I look forward to it, Potter.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the shed, leaving James’s heart beating furiously.

***

Slytherin absolutely destroyed Gryffindor during their first match. Pansy put so many points on the board by herself, that by the time Stella caught the Snitch, much to the ire of his little sister and Gryffindor seeker, Lily, it was just overkill.

After the game, James sat on the bench in the changing rooms, his elbows perched on his knees and his head in his hands. It was the worst defeat he had ever experienced as captain, maybe even in all the years he had played. And it was all because he was distracted. Since the beginning of the school year, he had been distracted by Poppy Longbottom and now it had cost them their first game. It was his last year at Hogwarts, his last Quidditch season and here he was stuffing it all up over a girl.

“You put up a good fight,” Poppy said, from the doorway. He had been so caught up in his despair that he hadn’t noticed her come in.

“Don’t patronise me,” he snapped, jumping up off the bench and in a few strides closing the space between them. He shoved a finger in her face. “You have no right to come in here and mock me. You know how much Quidditch means to me.”

Poppy’s eyes were wide as she shrinked back into the wall. “I’m not mocking you,” she said softly.

James dropped his finger, feeling guilty for scaring Poppy. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”

He could see Poppy’s body visibly relax now that he was calmer. As the anger slowly left him, it was replaced by the realisation that he was once again standing only a few inches away from her. Her breath was tickling his chin and he realised that if he just leaned his head in a little bit, he could put his lips on hers. Poppy’s eyes flicked across his face, not in the usual critical way, but more curious, as though she were seeing James’s face in a new way. His body beyond his control, he placed the hand that he had been threatening Poppy with, on her cheek, instead.

Her skin was so soft and for a moment he lost himself in the sensation of running his thumb along her jawbone.

“I just,” she whispered and his heart started beating faster. Did she want this too? Is that why she was here? “I came to say,” she continued, breathlessly, “that you better win the rest of your matches, because I don’t want this to be the last time we play against each other.”

His heart dropped. It wasn’t what he had wanted to hear, but yet? She was still looking up at him, breathing too quickly, and he dared to feel a spark of hope.

“Do you like beating me?” he breathed.

Poppy nodded, her eyes not leaving his face.

James’s mouth quirked at the corner. “I’ll see if I can make that happen then.” He tilted his head closer, but just before their lips touched, she ducked her head and ran down the corridor.

James watched her leave and when she was gone, he leaned his forehead against the doorframe.

James wasn’t sure of much, except one thing: he would make sure Gryffindor won their remaining matches. Because if he could be on the field against Poppy again, then maybe- the spark of hope in his chest became a flame- maybe she would let him kiss her.

***

With a fervour that made Lily ask him more than once if he was sure he was feeling alright in the head, James trained his team as he had never trained them before. He scheduled extra practices, organised one-on-one training sessions with each player and sat for hours each night coming up with plays and strategies in order to make them win. And win, they did.

Gryffindor crushed Hufflepuff in their second match and then absolutely decimated Ravenclaw in their third. By the time the Quidditch Cup final came around, James was buzzing with nervous energy at the thought of walking onto the pitch against Poppy and everything that might happen afterwards. James and Poppy had kept their distance since their heated conversation in the changing rooms, but they would steal glances at each other whenever they were in the same room and once or twice, he may have brushed his leg up against hers under the table at The Three Broomsticks as she sat next to her brother.

James felt Lily watching him out of the corner of her eye as they stood waiting to go out onto the pitch. “Don’t worry, James,” she told him. “We’re going to trounce them.”

James grinned at his little sister. “Let’s just have fun, shall we?”

Lily raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

With a light heart, he walked onto the Quidditch pitch, determined to play the best he ever had.

***

“I cannot be prouder of what we have accomplished as a team,” James told his teammates after the match. They were in the changing rooms, everyone still in their muddy Quidditch robes. “It has been an absolute honour to be your captain. I know this is not the outcome we all wanted, but this has still been one of the greatest days of my life.”

Maurae Wood started clapping and Crispin Stone whooped loudly. James smiled as the team applauded him. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Let’s get changed and have a party.”

James clapped Lily on the back, as she sat dejected on the bench. “You played well, Lil’. Stop beating yourself up about missing the Snitch.”

“She distracted me, James,” Lily snapped. “Stella Malfoy cost us this match and I will never forgive her.”

James couldn’t help but smile at his sister. Her rivalry with Stella Malfoy was becoming legendary and losing the Quidditch Cup because Stella caught the Stitch instead of her, seemed to already be another item on Lily’s list of grievances against her.

As the rest of the team slowly filtered out, James lingered by his locker, hoping a certain Slytherin would come find him again. After two hours of waiting and still no Poppy, James realised that she wasn’t coming. He stomped out of the changing rooms and made his way to the Gryffindor common room.

He was such an idiot. He had poured everything into this Quidditch season in the hope of reaching the finals so that he could share another moment with vapid, unreliable Poppy Longbottom. By the time he reached the common room, he had worked himself up into such a frenzy, he had to resist the urge to slam his fist into the wall. As he turned the final corner, he spotted a figure standing in the shadows. James’s eyes traced a line from shiny black heels to a short black leather skirt, tucking in a green, tight-fitting Slytherin t-shirt. Poppy’s face was half-obscured by the darkness, but the glint in her eyes was unmistakable.

“They threw me a victory party in the Slytherin common room, you know,” she said, quietly.

“How was it?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

She shrugged, the movement causing her breasts to rise up under her thin shirt in the most distracting way. “They carried me in and chanted my name. It made me consider starting a cult. I wouldn’t mind being worshipped.”

James struggled to smother his smile. He stopped a few inches away from her, desperate to close the distance, but careful to not break the spell that seemed to be weaving itself around them. “You deserve to be worshipped,” he whispered, looking at her lips.

Poppy bit her lip, a gesture that would seem nervous if this weren’t Poppy Longbottom. “Follow me,” she breathed.

In a daze, James followed Poppy as she led him down corridors, not sure where they were going. She opened a door that he hadn’t even seen and he followed her inside.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“I think it’s a leftover trace of the Room of Requirement,” she replied. “My dad spent a great deal of the war in that room, but it was mostly destroyed. I walked past here one day and the door was just there.” She smiled wistfully. “I think it recognised me.”

“What was the room used for?”

He looked around and saw a fireplace and a random collection of furniture, some of it broken, but nothing that indicated the purpose of the room.

Poppy stepped closer to him and put her hand on his chest. Her eyes were lowered and he desperately wished to see her expression. “It gave you what you needed,” she answered, quietly.

“What do you need, Poppy?”

She lifted her eyes to his. “You,” she whispered.

James was not sure whose head closed the distance first, but finally, _finally_ , they were kissing.

Kissing Poppy was everything James had dreamed about and more. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as he possibly could. Feeling her body pressed against his, made him feel light-headed. James had kissed girls before, but he had never felt the want and need that he was feeling for Poppy in that moment.

She seemed to be enjoying it too as she wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged her fingers through his hair. Pulling him backwards, she led him towards the couch in front of the fireplace. Breaking their contact briefly, she lay down on it, pulling at his jersey so that he would lie down on top of her.

James had thought that feeling Poppy’s body against him as they were standing was amazing, he felt as though his body would disintegrate as he lay down on top of her. Hovering his hand above her skirt, he asked in a hoarse voice, “May I?”

Poppy looked down at his hand and nodded. “Yes, please.”

James grinned, realising that Poppy sounded just as hoarse as he did. He brought his lips crashing down against hers again, slipping his hand under her skirt. James’s breath stalled, unable to focus on even his most basic bodily functions as his hands traced her thighs and –oh gods- her stockings only went up to her mid-thighs, leaving the skin that led to her underwear bare.

Poppy moaned beneath him and James managed to collect his thoughts enough to realise what they were doing. He pulled away abruptly and sat up. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he breathed. “We should slow down.”

“Why?” Poppy asked, still lying on the couch. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist and her hair was fanned out across the pillows. James struggled to not bend down and continue touching her absolutely everywhere, but this was all happening too fast.

“If we go on, I feel as if we’re going to have sex and I don’t know if we should do that.”

Poppy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not? Do you not want to have sex with me?”

“Of course, I want to have sex with you,” he said, far too quickly to not injure his sense of pride.

Poppy’s eyebrows went from furrowed to raised in question. “So, what’s the problem?”

James wanted the earth to swallow him up. He was not someone who was easily embarrassed, but having his best friend’s little sister ask him why he didn’t think it was a good idea for them to have sex, was mortifying.

“I’m a- I haven’t,” he stuttered.

“Are you a virgin?” Poppy asked, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.

James felt his face flush red and he turned his head away, unable to keep looking at Poppy’s expression.

Still refusing to look at her, he felt her sit up next to him. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned her chin on his shoulder. “Would it help if I said I am as well?” she asked, her voice raw and vulnerable in a way that he had never heard hers be before.

James turned his head and met Poppy’s hazel eyes, the vulnerability that he had heard in her voice showing in her eyes as well. “Do you want it to be me?” he asked.

“Yes. I want it to be you.”

James swallowed.

“And- and you?” she asked in a small voice.

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, before kissing her again, putting every feeling of desire and frustration that he had felt over the last couple of months into that kiss.

And it was wonderful.

***

After that first time in the Room of Requirement, James and Poppy kept on meeting a few times a week. James stopped reprimanding Poppy when she was out after curfew and instead started actively encouraging it. They would kiss each other in dark corners that he knew of from years of Prefect rounds. If they both couldn’t stand it anymore, he would skiv his duties and they would run to the Room of Requirement, proceeding to rip each other’s clothes off.

Sleeping with Poppy was… interesting.

James was insanely attracted to her; that had been clear since he had seen her again this year. What was surprising, though, was how much he liked talking to her.

After they had sex, they would lie next to each other and just talk for ages. They had known each other their whole lives, but Poppy was only ever his friend’s sister and that meant that they had never spent much time together, just the two of them.

James was surprised to discover that Poppy was wickedly funny, with a sharp sense of wit that could leave him gasping for breath. He knew she was cold and haughty and caustic, but she could also be soft and gentle in unexpected ways. She would tell him about how she liked helping her father work in his greenhouse, because she never felt closer to him than when her hands were buried in a pile of dirt. Her brother was her favourite person in the world, only slightly pushing ahead of Stella. James had to agree, telling her that Lily and Albus were the best people he knew, but Harry was a very close third. Once, with tears leaking out of her eyes, she had told him that she worries sometimes if she has too much Parkinson in her and will turn out to be as cruel as her forefathers. James had kissed her forehead and held her close, whispering that it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true.

Sometimes, they didn’t even have sex and instead they would just lie next to each other, Poppy tracing James’s eyebrows and cheekbones and jawline while James watched her and tried to figure out when she had become so important to him. 

The one thing they didn’t talk about, however, was what they were to each other. In public, they acted exactly the same as always. James was Harry’s friend and Poppy was his sister. They never spoke unless there was a reason, usually to do with Harry. Everything was exactly the same.

By the second half of the year, James was so wrapped up in preparing for his N.E.W.T.S. that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind that he and Poppy should talk about what was happening between them. It was James’s last year at Hogwarts and whether they wanted to or not, they could not go on the way they were for much longer.

In retrospect, James really wished he’d fucking realised it sooner.

***

The day started out well. James felt confident that he had passed DADA with flying colours, the last exam of his entire school career. Soon, he would be leaving Hogwarts for the last time, his whole future stretched out before him. Walking out onto the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the warm sunshine on his face, he felt invincible, as only the young could feel.

When he spotted Poppy strolling alone by the Black Lake, a smile spread across his face. Before he knew it, he was walking towards her. She was staring out across the lake, her dark sunglasses shading her eyes. From behind, James wrapped his arms around Poppy’s waist and buried his face in her hair. “I have missed you so fucking much,” he sighed into her hair.

Poppy shrugged out of his grasp. “The fuck are you doing, Potter?”

James was confused. Poppy’s eyes were hidden behind dark lenses, but her brow was furrowed and she seemed angry. She had never before reacted like that when he touched her.

“I’m just happy to see you. With exams, we haven’t seen each other in weeks,” he said, struggling to ignore the pathetic note in his voice.

Poppy folded her arms across her chest. “We’re in public, Potter.”

James took a step back, as though she had struck him. “So, what, you don’t want to be seen with me?”

Poppy looked away quickly.

“Are you serious, right now?” he continued. “You’re ashamed of me? What the fuck, Poppy?”

“You’re one to talk,” Poppy said through gritted teeth, turning back to glare at him. “We’ve been shagging for months and never once have you said or done anything about it.”

James opened and closed his mouth, struggling to form words. “You never said,” he whispered. “You never acted like it was a problem.”

Poppy wiped at her cheeks and James realised she was crying.

“What could I say? Hey, Potter, I know we never talked about what this is, but I kind of like you and want to kiss you in public? Do you know how pathetic that would make me? I know what I am. I’m just the lovestruck little sister that was a convenient shag for you.”

“Poppy, you started this. You wanted to sleep with me. I didn’t- I didn’t know you wanted a relationship.”

Poppy gaped at him. “I’ve been in love with you my whole life, James. How the fuck have you not noticed?”

James felt as though his head were about to explode. This was all too much. “That’s not true,” he said.

“You think I’m lying?” Poppy shrieked. “You can ask Harry, he’s teased me about it for years. Yes, I started this and yes, I wanted to sleep with you, but it’s because I have feelings for you. You…” She stopped then and put her hands in her hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. “You just took and took and didn’t even think about what you were doing. You’re leaving, James!” Poppy dropped her arms in defeat at her last words. Her shoulders were slumped and James had never seen her look so small. “Your exams are done and you’re leaving and you never bothered to even talk to me about what’s going to happen to us.”

“Poppy,” he started, but had no idea what to say.

Poppy wiped furiously at her cheeks. “I need to go,” she said, before running back towards the school.

Too shocked to know how to react, he didn’t follow her and just watched her leave.

***

James’s last day of Hogwarts was miserable. Poppy had solidly been ignoring him for the past few days, not even bothering to look at him as she stormed past him each time he tried to corner her in the corridors. Harry noticed his friend’s mood and tried his best to cheer him up by organising pranks for them to play on the younger students. Not even setting off a few choice Weasleys’ Wildfire Whizz-Bangs in a first year’s class was able to get him to crack a smile.

James was sitting in the window seat in the Gryffindor common room, staring blankly at the grounds when Harry shoved his legs off the seat and sat down down next him. “Alright, I’ve had enough. This is our last day at this bloody school and you are making as if your dog just died. What’s going on?”

James leaned his head back against the wall behind him and sighed. “Can I ask you something, Harry?”

Harry nodded.

“Do you promise not to get angry?”

Harry frowned. “I won’t, but James, you’re acting really weird.”

“Is Poppy in love with me?” James asked quickly, before Harry could say anything more.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. Half-laughing, he asked, “Where’s this coming from? Did she say something to you?”

“Just answer the question.”

Harry shrugged. “In love with might be too strong, but, yeah. She’s had a crush on you forever. Your obliviousness on the subject never ceases to amaze me.”

“Fuck,” James exclaimed, violently rubbing his face with his hands.

“Don’t worry about it, James,” Harry tried to comfort him. “She’s not like a creepy stalker or anything, it’s just a childhood crush.”

“It’s not a childhood crush,” James told him seriously.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.

James rubbed at his eyes again, unsure how much he should tell his friend.

_Oh, fuck it._

“I’ve been sleeping with Poppy for months,” he said in a rush.

Harry was quiet for a few moments, processing James’s words.

“Harry,” James said carefully. “You promised not to get angry.”

Harry still didn’t say anything. With no warning, he stood up and left.

“Harry!” James called, chasing after his friend.

Harry was walking quickly, forcing open the door of the common room.

Outside, James grabbed Harry’s arm to stop him.

“Harry, talk to me please.”

Harry shrugged his arm off, not unlike his sister had done the previous week. He shoved James against the wall, pinning him against it with his arm. “What did you do?” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“I- I- it started after the Quidditch final. We’d kind of been dancing around each other since the beginning of the school year, but then after the final we just…” he drifted off. “You don’t really want to hear about me shagging your sister, do you?” he tried to joke.

Harry shoved him against the wall again, but then let him go. He paced in front of James, still quiet.

James thought it wise to not say anything else until Harry had calmed down a bit.

After what felt like an age, Harry stopped pacing and asked, “Did it mean something to you?”

James looked away, feeling unnerved by Harry’s intense stare.

He thought about all the moments he had spent with Poppy. Yes, the sex was great and he found her beautiful to the point of distraction, but he couldn’t deny that he felt something for her beyond all that. It wasn’t just sex, it was… he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something important.

“Yes,” he replied.

Harry jerked his arm and for a moment James thought he was going to punch him.

“She’s the only girl I’ve ever been with,” he added quickly. “I know that doesn’t mean much, but she’s the only girl I’ve ever felt strongly about. And I think I’ve messed it all up. I thought we were fine, just hanging out, but then I touched her in public and she freaked out. She told me she’s been in love with me forever and I’m just a bloody wanker who was fucking her like she meant nothing.”

“Do not talk about fucking my sister!” Harry warned, raising a fist at James.

“I didn’t know, Harry. I didn’t know what this meant to her.”

“And you didn’t even think to ask!” Harry yelled at him. “Fuck, James. You can’t sleep with a girl for that long and not talk about what your relationship means.”

“It never came up. She didn’t say anything.”

“Because she’s too proud!” Harry cried exasperatedly. He sighed, lowering his head against his chest. “How are you going to fix this?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

Harry observed James carefully.

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t know,” James answered, honestly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “She’s my fucking sister, James.”

“I know.”

James didn’t know what to say. He had already ruined things with Poppy and he may have just ruined the most important friendship in his life as well.

“I need to process all of this,” Harry said. “I need some fresh air.”

“Harry,” James started, but Harry held up a hand to stop him.

“I need to think about this.”

James watched as Harry walked away. He was the second Longbottom that had walked away from him that week.

***

“I’m really sorry, James. I wish we could have won the cup for you in your last year,” Lily told him, as they sat on the train on their way back home from Hogwarts. James and Harry sat on one side of the compartment and Lily was seated on the other. James was never sure if Lily actually had any of her own friends; she just seemed to bounce around between different family members. “If only bloody Stella Malfoy hadn’t started talking to me,” she continued. “I would have caught that Snitch, I know it. It really is a shame.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, James could see Harry staring at her in wonder.

“Lily, you really need to let this go,” Harry told her.

Lily glared at him. “It’s the truth, though. Ughh,” she groaned, “why does no-one ever listen to me?”

She stormed out of the compartment.

“She really needs to deal with her Stella Malfoy issues,” James said, cracking a smile for the first time in days.

Harry didn’t answer.

The mood in the compartment had darkened considerably now that Lily was gone.

“She’s going to Paris for the summer,” Harry said without looking at James. “She’s going to work for my mum and she’s going to be there the whole time. She’ll come back in time for school.”

James found he was struggling to breathe. “I’m not coming back to Hogwarts,” he murmured. “When will I see her again?”

Harry sighed, leaning back against the seat. He turned his head to look at James with a look filled with pity. “She doesn’t want to see you again for a long time.”

James looked down at his hands in his lap. Something wet landed on his arm and he realised he was crying. With a sniff he said, “I don’t blame her. She deserves a lot better than me.”

Harry put a hand on James’s shoulder. “For the record, I would have rooted for the two of you.”

James looked up at his friend. “Yeah?”

Harry shrugged. “You two would be good together. You’re the only person who actually has the ability to unsettle her. It’s annoying how hard it is to rattle her.”

James laughed. “How come I never noticed any of this?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” Harry chuckled to himself. “Don’t you remember that time you came over and she had gotten that awful bowl haircut, because mum had somehow offended the hairdresser and she decided to take it out on Poppy?”

James grinned, remembering how Poppy had screamed when he had walked in. She had thrown a jumper around her head and fled the room.

“Yeah, but she would have reacted like that with anyone,” James said. “It _was_ a truly awful haircut.”

Harry shook his head. “No, mate. That was because it was you.”

James sighed. “You really could’ve mentioned something sooner.”

Harry grinned, reminding James for a rare moment of Pansy Parkinson. “Nah, it was too much fun watching you two.”

James punched Harry playfully on the arm. “Ow,” Harry cried, offended.

Even though James had lost the girl he cared about, probably forever, at least his friendship with Harry was going to be okay.

***

James had been looking forward to the summer after his seventh year, his entire life. For years, Harry and he had talked about the parties they would throw, the adventures they would have before moving into a flat together before starting Auror training or whatever they decided to do with their lives. Instead, he sat around the house moping. Or going for long walks by himself. Or gambling for sweets with his sister.

The only thing that vaguely lifted his mood was when Harry came over and they went to the pub. At least then, James could drink and talk to someone for hours about how he felt. By midsummer, Harry had had enough.

“James, shut up,” he told him, as they sat in the pub, James nursing his third pint.

James looked up with a hurt expression.

“I’m sorry, James, but you really need to shut it,” he continued. “I can’t listen to it anymore. Either you let Poppy go or do something to win her back.”

James perked up. “So, you think there’s hope? If I do something I can win her back?”

“That’s not what I said,” Harry interjected quickly.

“No, you said I have two options. Either I let her go or win her back.”

Harry scrubbed at his face in frustration. “James, you hurt her. I know my sister and she was not okay. You can’t wave your wand and make everything right.”

James was barely listening, a plan already forming in his head.

“I need to go to Paris,” he said.

“No.”

“Yes. Poppy thinks we meant nothing to me, but it’s not true. She needs to know that I love her.”

“No.”

“Come on, Harry. I need to at least try. Poppy is worth a fight and I haven’t fought for her.” James tried to put every ounce of feeling into his words that he could. Harry needed to understand that this wasn’t James following a whim, but rather going after something that he truly cared about. “Help me fix this.” 

Harry stared at his nearly empty glass, before downing the contents. “For the record,” he said, finally. “When my sister is trying to murder you and I pull her off of you, it’s because I don’t want her to end up in Azkaban, not because I’m saving your sorry arse.”

James clapped him on the back. “It’s going to work, mate. It’s going to work.”

So, it was decided. James was going to go to Paris to tell Poppy he loved her.

At Teddy and Victoire’s engagement party, Harry held out a portkey to James. “Here you go. My mum says we mustn’t break anything.”

James tried to take the portkey, but Harry held tight.

“That includes my sister’s heart, understand?” Harry said in a threatening voice.

James nodded. “It’s going to work, Harry,” he assured his friend for the hundredth time.

The rest of the night, James felt light as air. He drank too much, danced too much and he didn’t want to go to sleep for fear that this sense of weightlessness would disappear.

***

Standing in front of Pansy’s flat, James bounced on his feet with nervous energy. He knew that Poppy was still at work and wasn’t inside, but he couldn’t help it. The past couple of months had been torture, not being able to see Poppy’s sarcastic smile or the way her hazel eyes were soft and lazy when she woke up. James could almost smell her perfume and feel the soft skin of her neck under his fingers, he was so close.

Harry opened the door and James resisted the urge to shove him out of the way and rush inside. His cousin Fred beat him to it and ran inside, already looking for the fridge. “Do you rate your sister keeps beers in the house?” he asked Harry.

Harry shot Fred a disbelieving look. “Have you met my sister?”

Fred shrugged. “I’ve caught Poppy and Stella with Firewhiskey plenty of times at Hogwarts. I know they drink.”

“What?” James couldn’t believe it. “Stella is a goody-two-shoes. Well, except for when she got Lily drunk.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows. “Stella is very talented at having alcohol on her person anywhere at anytime. But, no, Fred, Poppy only drinks the hard stuff.”

Fred pulled a face. “When’s Louis getting here? I need a drink.”

Louis, the other Weasley cousin that was joining them, had been staying with his French grandparents for the summer and was only coming to Paris later in the day. James hadn’t wanted to scare Poppy off, so he had suggested a lads’ weekend in order to throw off any suspicions as to the true intent of his visit.

“Let’s get settled in and then go for a pint,” James suggested. A drink would do him some good as well.

Four hours later, they were back at the flat and the other three boys were completely pissed. Fred and Louis were chanting Quidditch war cries at the top of their lungs and Harry was hugging a bottle of Firewhiskey as though it were a pillow. James had stopped after a pint, because he wanted a clear head when he saw Poppy, but looking around at the scene before him, he wasn’t quite sure when things had gotten so out of hand.

He was still standing by the open balcony doors, when the front door opened and Poppy walked in. She was wearing a short black summer dress and her hair was trimmed to just past her shoulders. A twinge of pain coursed through his heart as he realised she must have cut it since he’d last seen her. Although she was somehow more beautiful than he remembered, as she looked around at the group of drunk boys in her living room, she looked tired.

“Harry, what the fuck?” she called.

Harry lifted his head, blurrily trying to locate his sister. “Poppy!” he called. “Come, have a drink.”

Poppy looked down her nose at the offered bottle of Firewhiskey that he had been previously clutching in his arms. “No thanks.”

Without sparing a glance at James, she walked towards her room.

 _Fuck_. He should have said something. He should have gone up to her, grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the balcony so that they could talk. Instead, he had lost himself in looking at her, drinking in her face and her eyes as though he were drowning and she was air.

James punched the doorframe in frustration. He was so stupid and he could just, _oh shit_. Was that smoke he was smelling?

Momentarily putting pause on his wallowing, he looked over to see Fred and Louis desperately trying to put out a small fire on the coffee table.

“What did you do?” he yelled, running over with his wand. He muttered a spell and water shot out of it, dampening the flames.

Now that the immediate danger was out of the way, Fred and Louis burst out into laughter.

“The fuck did you idiots do?” James asked again, not finding their antics remotely amusing.

“We were trying to cast Patronuses,” Louis said through his laughter, tears running down his cheeks. “But the spell backfired and then there were sparks and we’d spilt some whiskey earlier and the table just caught fire.”

“You are fucking kidding me,” Poppy seethed, having come out of her room and was now standing behind the couch.

“Poppy, it’s fine,” James assured her. “I put out the fire.”

“My mother expressly told you not to damage anything,” she glared at him, the first time that she had looked him in the eyes for months. “I know you don’t give a damn about anything besides yourself, but I live here, so please try not to break the place apart.”

James got the distinct impression she was not only talking about the flat.

“Fred, Louis, drink some water and sit down,” James said in the most authoritive voice he could muster. “Harry…” Harry was dozing with his chin on his chest. “You stay there.” Walking around the couch, he stopped in front of Poppy. “We need to talk.”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “No.”

She turned to walk away, but he pivoted until he was in front of her. “I’ll start talking right here, where everyone can hear or you can come onto the balcony with me.”

Poppy stole a glance at Fred and Louis. “Fine.”

She pushed past James and walked onto the balcony.

He couldn’t believe that had worked. Half in shock, he followed her onto the balcony, the lights of the city shining below them. Poppy stood with her back to him, looking at the twinkling lights.

Now that she was finally in front of him, his throat felt dry and his brain seemed unable to form a coherent thought.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, before she finally said, “If you’re not going to say anything, I’m going to go to bed.”

“I love you,” he said, not even thinking. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, but I was too stupid to realise.”

Poppy turned her head slowly to look at him. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

“I was such an idiot and I should have treated you better and I understand why you would hate me, but I came here to tell you I love, because I do, Poppy. I love you.”

Poppy looked up at him with shining eyes.

“Please say something,” he whispered.

She didn’t say anything, but she did kiss him.

This time, James knew why was kissing Poppy and he needed her to know it too.

So fast, it was as if they had Apparated, they were in her room and he was taking off her dress and she was pulling his shirt over her head. She pulled him down on the bed and he kissed her breasts and her bare stomach. For months, James had feared he would never be here again, but here he was.

“Poppy,” he whispered over and over, as he kissed every inch of bare skin he could find. He pulled down her underwear and with her hand knotted through his hair, he put his mouth between her legs. She needed to know how much he had missed her and he was going to show her. Poppy Longbottom wanted to be worshipped? He would worship her.

Above him, Poppy writhed and bucked her hips against his mouth.

“James,” she breathed. He stopped, looking up at her, afraid that she was about to tell him to leave. “I want you, now.”

James smiled. He threw down his jeans and lowered his body over Poppy’s. She pulled his head in for a kiss and he was happy to oblige. His eyes rolled back in his head when she lowered her hand between his legs and drew him towards her. “Are you sure?” he asked, quietly, praying that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady.

Lifting her up, James positioned her in his lap, her legs wrapped around him. Carefully, he lowered her down until he was fully inside her. Her breath hitched and she pulled his head closer to hers, until their foreheads were touching. Slowly, so slowly, he started moving his hips and he felt her respond in kind. They continued, barely moving, their breaths mingling until he felt as though they were breathing in the same air. He lowered his hand to where their bodies met and slowly touched her where he knew she was most sensitive.

When the pressure became too much and he felt her walls fluttering against him, he increased the pressure and moved faster against her. She threw back her head and moaned in pleasure. He kissed her exposed neck and whispered, “I love you, I love you so much.”

This seemed to undo her and she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she came. Seeing her like that, brought him close to the edge and he soon hurtled over it with her.

As they came down, neither one of them moved except for Poppy, who lowered her head and brought their foreheads close together again.

“I love you, Poppy,” he whispered.

She nodded, their noses brushing against each other.

If he hadn’t been so happy, he would have noticed that she didn’t say it back.

***

James woke up with a warm glow on his face. He cracked open an eye to see bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Moving his hand across the bed, he searched for Poppy, but found the bed empty. He lifted his head to look around the room and found that it, too, was empty.

Poppy was probably in the shower or the kitchen, he thought. Getting up, he threw on his boxers and walked outside. The living room was empty, but Harry was sitting at the table in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Have you seen Poppy?” James asked him.

Harry toyed with a letter that James now realised he was holding.

“What’s that?” he asked, walking over to boil the kettle. He wondered if Poppy would be annoyed if he tried to cook her breakfast. What did she like to eat in the morning? In all the times that he had stared at her from across the Great Hall, he had never paid much attention to what she was eating.

“It’s for you,” Harry said quietly, standing up and giving him the letter. He refused to meet James’s eyes.

“I don’t want it,” James said, a feeling of dread washing over him.

Harry put it down on the counter next to James. “She said she’s sorry.”

Still not looking at him, Harry left the room.

James picked up the letter and wanted to tear it up. He wanted to, he tried to, but he couldn’t. Instead, he just sat down on the floor, leaning his head back against the counter. This wasn’t happening.

Poppy had left him. She was gone.

***

After Paris, James went on with his life. He went flat-hunting with Harry, played Quidditch with his cousins, teased Albus and generally enjoyed being a soon to be nineteen-year-old boy.

The only clues that James was not like any other teenage boy were few and no-one seemed to notice anything going on with him. If someone wondered why James subtly excused himself whenever a girl tried to flirt with him at the pub, they probably assumed she just wasn’t his type. His barely leaving the Burrow, could easily be explained by the fact that he probably wanted to spend time with his family before moving out. If anybody wondered where he sneaked off to in the middle of the night when he was unable to sleep, they would never guess that he lay in the grass looking at the stars and wishing he could turn back time.

All throughout the summer, however, the letter that Poppy had written him, stayed carefully sealed, hidden inbetween his Quidditch uniform.

***

One day in November, Harry was dressed for going out before breakfast.

“Where you off to?” James asked.

“I’m going to visit my parents. We’re having brunch and then I’ll see if I want to go with them to the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match.”

“Can I come?”

Harry stopped halfway through putting on his coat and raised his eyebrows at James. “Why?”

James shrugged. “I feel like watching a Quidditch match. And your mother’s brunches are legendary. It’s not as if we’ve been eating proper food since we moved in here.”

Harry finished putting on his coat, but still looked skeptical. “I don’t know if she’ll want to see you.” He clearly didn’t mean Pansy.

“I want to give her the option. Maybe she hasn’t missed me at all,” James told him, the words like ash in his mouth, “or maybe she has. She won’t know while she’s away at school and never sees me.”

Harry contemplated James’s argument. “Do you promise to keep your distance and only speak to her if she approaches you?”

“You make me sound like a stalker.”

Harry shot him a flat look. “I’ve spent my entire summer being the shoulder to cry on for my sister and my best friend. Forgive me for wanting to minimise the drama.”

James held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I will keep my distance. I just want to see her.”

Harry sighed. “Get dressed.”

James bolted to his room.

“And wear proper shoes,” Harry yelled from the entrance hall. “My mother hates it when you show up in trainers.”

***

James had never had this much fun at a Quidditch match when he wasn’t playing. Or watching a team that he wasn’t rooting for. In any case, his day was going very well.

Pansy had prepared a veritable feast as always, or rather she had ordered it. After nineteen years, James still wasn’t sure if Harry’s mum knew how to make toast. It didn’t matter though, because she was always a brilliant host.

“James, darling, so glad to see you’re wearing proper shoes,” she greeted when she opened the door, giving him a double kiss.

“Only the best for you, Aunt Pansy,” he said, knowing it would annoy her.

“Do I look like a Weasley or Potter to you, James?” Pansy asked in long-suffering voice.

“Leave him alone, Pans,” Neville told her, walking into the entrance hall. “Hiya James, Harry. I didn’t know you were joining us.”

James and Harry walked inside, starting to take off their coats. “We ran out of food at home,” James joked.

Neville laughed. “I remember that from when I first moved out.”

Neville put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and led them to the dining room. As James watched the couple, he wondered if they would be so welcoming to him if they knew what had happened between him and Poppy.

After brunch, Neville had shown them around the garden, explaining the projects he was currently working on. He and Draco were having much success in the new species of ever-blooming roses that they were developing. James ususally enjoyed spending time with Harry’s parents, but he was rather relieved when Pansy came outside and told them it was time to go.

It was only when James was seated in the stands and the teams were on the field, that James felt he could relax. As he watched the teams fly by, he only had eyes for Pansy.

He had been good these past few months, giving her the space she clearly needed. At first, he had wanted to go after Poppy, convince her that their night together had not been a mistake, but Harry had just shook his head, looking very sad for his friend. Now, seeing her again after so long, was like a kick to his chest. He would probably never get used to the impact she had on him.

Lily watched him skeptically throughout the match, but he ignored her for the most part. Afterwards, he nodded at Harry and sneaked off towards the Slytherin changing rooms. He stood just outside the door, waiting for Poppy. She would have to see him as she walked out, but he left enough room so that if she didn’t want to, she could just walk past him.

Player after player filed out and finally Poppy followed. James saw a look of surprise cross her face when she saw him, but then she quickly schooled her features into a mask of impassiveness. In control again, she walked past him, taking a piece of his heart with her.

But then she stopped. Hesitated. She turned slightly on her heel, but quickly seemed to think the better of it, continuing on her way.

But she had stopped. And that was all James needed to know.

***

After the Quidditch match, James didn’t force Poppy to talk to him, but he did make sure she knew he was around if she wanted to. He attended the rest of her matches, patiently waiting for her by the changing rooms each time. Poppy still didn’t say anything, but she stole glances at him as she walked past.

At the Malfoy Christmas party, he kept his distance for the most part, but he couldn’t resist asking her to dance. She refused with a flat look and proceeded to dance with every other young male in the room. When she was getting ready to leave with her family, he wordlessly slipped a box in her hand. He didn’t turn around to see if she opened it, but he liked to imagine her smiling as her eyes fell on the poppy necklace inside.

James had all but accepted his fate of never having the opportunity to speak to Pansy again, when he had received a letter from Lily, stating, “I will get you in the same room as her, but after that it’s up to you. Don’t screw it up, James.”

A grin split his face. Lily was a dark horse. Not only had she managed to bag Stella Malfoy, she was going to try to help him make up with Poppy.

Two weeks later, he was sitting next to Harry in Hogsmeade, waiting for their sisters and Stella to arrive.

“Please stop bouncing your leg,” Harry asked, taking a swig of beer.

“Sorry,” James stopped.

“Why’s Lily helping you out again?”

“I think she pities me.”

Harry laughed. “She should pity me. I have to deal with this mess.”

“Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Harry shrugged. “Yes. But Lily and Stella have gone from mortal enemies to madly in love, so maybe miracles can happen.”

“Thanks, mate,” James said drily.

Just then, a dark head bobbed in and he saw that it was Poppy. Like an idiot, he jumped up and called them over.

Apparently, Lily and Stella only knew how to be subtle when it came to their own relationship, because as they sat down next to Harry, James could feel Poppy bristle as she realised what was going on.

Harry tried to help, asking about school and how Lily and Stella were doing. James attempted to come up with a game plan, but once again, when faced with Poppy, he had lost any trace of coherent thought.

“Girls, we’re going to the bathroom,” Poppy announced, standing up. Sharing a terrified look, Lily and Stella followed her.

James put his head on the table. “I’m so fucked,” he groaned.

“Mate, that is not going to win over Poppy Longbottom.”

“I know.”

“How did you even get her to sleep with you in the first place?”

James lifted his head and shot Harry a look. “Would you like details?”

Harry scowled. “Drink your beer and think about how you’re going to fix this, Potter.”

James put his head back down on the table, feeling miserable.

Harry pulled at his shoulder. “You’re up, mate.”

James lifted his head to see Poppy marching towards him, a look of hard steel on her face.

Once at the table she pulled at his arm to drag him up. Without argument, he allowed her to lead him through the pub. Once outside, she let go and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“Why are you here?” she asked, not looking at him.

“You know why I’m here.”

Poppy kicked her boot in the snow. “I told you how I felt.”

“Not to my face.”

“Is that what you want? Is that why you keep showing up?”

“Yes.”

“What difference does it make, James?” she cried, throwing her arms up in defeat.

“It makes all the difference.”

Poppy didn’t reply.

From his pocket, James took out the still closed letter. “I never opened it.”

Poppy raised her eyes to see what he was talking about. They widened in mortification when she realised what he was holding.

“If you tell me you truly mean whatever you wrote in this letter,” he continued. “I will walk away and leave you alone forever. But if it isn’t, I will rip this up and we can just move on. Start fresh. The way we should have.”

For an eternity, Poppy stood in front of him, not moving. James felt as though his ribs were going to break, his heart was beating so fast. He tried to distract himself by thinking how beautiful she looked in the softly falling snow, but that only made the thought of her rejecting him all the more painful.

Then, as if in slow-motion, she grabbed the letter and ripped it to shreds. She smiled at the falling pieces of parchment, drifting with the snow to the ground.

James took her face in his hands and kissed her. This time they both knew what it meant to them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comments are always welcome. You can find me on [tumblr](https://richardayoadeshair.tumblr.com/)


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